


According to Plan

by theheavycrown



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bughead Secret Santa, Christmas, Christmas Tree, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Mistletoe, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 14:16:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17245688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theheavycrown/pseuds/theheavycrown
Summary: Not all plans are meant to be followed.





	According to Plan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [generallythere19](https://archiveofourown.org/users/generallythere19/gifts).



> For Bughead Secret Santa | Riverdale Reindeer Games
> 
> Thank you to my friends and betas, [opportunistichag](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpportunisticHag/pseuds/OpportunisticHag) and [jane-hoppers](https://jane-hoppers.tumblr.com). They make me better.

Jughead never thought he would be standing in the Cooper living room with a hand on Betty's back to brace her as she put the star on top of the Christmas tree.

When she raised a foot and began to sway to one side, he grasped her waist between his hands. “Careful there.”

His fingers flexed against the fabric of her garishly festive, cat-adorned sweater — much softer than he expected. Brow furrowing, he noted his hands could almost circle entirely around her small frame. As he stared at the dip between her shoulder blades, images of pulling her closer in much different circumstances cropped up, uninvited, into his mind.

“—listening?”

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Jughead looked up. “What?”

Betty had craned her neck around to look down at him. “I said you can let go, we’re all set. See?” She gestured to the tree, star shining brightly over her shoulder.

Blinking, he cleared his throat and released her. “Look at that, so we are. Our star’s aligned.” He topped the pun off with a wink, offering a hand to help her down.

She placed her palm into his, tilting her chin down with a smile and stepping off the chair. “Dinner, check. Christmas tree, check. Everything is going just as we planned.”

Jughead tugged his hat down over his ears. “Yeah, without a hitch.”

Except there _was_ a hitch, a great, big, massive sized hitch. When they had devised their seemingly foolproof plan — tackle Christmas with their families and silence the questions of when they would be bringing someone home for the holidays — by going together, _together_ together, he hadn’t accounted for one thing — his feelings for Betty. Over the course of their friendship he had assured himself, time and again, that they were completely platonic. Nothing like a weekend of _fake_ romance to bring his very _real_ lie, to himself and now Betty, to light.

“For the final touch…” She leaned down and pressed a button below the tree that sent it rotating in a slow circle.

“Your tree _turns_?”

“We go big for Christmas. Beautiful, isn’t it?” They stood side by side, watching the twinkle of lights that peeked through the branches. “My mom got a rotating Christmas tree stand when we were young, it’s been a tradition ever since.”

Jughead’s mouth parted, dumbfounded. “I’ve never even seen a rotating Christmas tree.” His childhood experience was vastly different from the Cooper holiday extravaganza he had witnessed thus far.

Christmas at the Jones household had never been a grand affair. The trailer bore little change during the holidays — a small tree acquired from the dollar general, made of tinsel and sporting one too many burnt out lights, was all their lifestyle had afforded growing up.

If they were lucky, Christmas morning would come with a box of food, essentials, and trinkets delivered in the night by local do-gooders. His father had found himself in better fortune in recent years, granting a warmer celebration for their small family — but it didn’t compare to this. Though Jughead supposed nothing ever would when it came to Betty.

“Just wait until we put all the ornaments on. But first,” she paused and headed to the front closet, then pulled on her coat. “We have to go outside and make sure it looks just right.”

He caught himself staring, unfocused, at the tree and dragged his gaze to Betty before peering out the window. “Outside?” Everything in sight was covered by a thick blanket of snow. “It looks right from here.”

“But it might _not_ from out there.”

“It’s snowing.”

She held out his sherpa jacket, shaking it slightly. “A little snow never hurt anyone.”

“Pretty sure ‘a little snow’ and the snowflake assault going on outside are on two very different levels, Betty.”

“It’s all about the experience, Jug. Please?” She stuck her bottom lip out, tilting her head coquettishly. “I’ll warm you up after if you get cold.”

The corners of his mouth turned up at the determination on her face. “Are you flirting with me, _girlfriend_?”

She grinned, shrugging one shoulder.

Snow be damned. He took the coat from her outstretched hand and pulled it on. “Lead the way, John Ruth.”

“Does that make you my captive?”

“Only if you don’t make me that holiday hot cocoa you’ve been touting about since we got here.”

Betty tucked on a pair of fuzzy white earmuffs with matching mittens, then clapped her hands together. “I’ll even throw in some homemade marshmallows.” Grabbing his hand, she threw open the door.

Yet again, Jughead found himself in awe —  he only ever knew them from the prepackaged bag. “You can make marshmallows at home?”

Dipping her chin against the cold winter air, she stomped forward through the already ankle deep snow, tugging him with her. “The best marshmallows are homemade. Prepare to have Graft brand ruined for good.”

He adjusted his beanie then shoved his free hand into his pocket, following closely behind and stepping into the shadow of her footprints. “You trying to deprive me of my sweets, Betts?”

She turned her head back to look at him and smiled enigmatically, squeezing his palm. “Of course not. You’ll just have to keep me around.”

His chest suddenly felt tight from the effort to stop himself from blurting out how much he wanted to do just that. There were no witnesses to act for and yet she was just as warm — surely she didn’t feel the same. Did she?

They reached a location appropriate for outdoor, indoor Christmas tree viewing and critique. Although it made little sense to him, the trek meant his cold fingers were wrapped around Betty’s fluff covered palm and that felt like reason enough.

“So, what do you think?”

“Errrr,” he squinted, looking up the hill and into the window. “Very tree-like.”

“But how does it _look_?”

“Conical.”

Betty laughed, “Jughead! Are you mocking the Christmas tree traditions?”

“The tree-ditions are sacred.”

With a huff, she crouched down, scooping up a handful of snow.

Realizing her motives, he tugged her hand, still grasped in his own, and pulled her to him. “Oh no you don’t.”

He was moments too late, as she waved her full hand about with a not-quite-menacing furrow of her brows. “You’ll get the snow.”

“Betty,” he warned as she leaned in.

Her cheeks were flushed from the cold and her eyes twinkled, matching the grin that spread across her face. She was captivating, breathtaking, and incredibly close — he could see the streaks of amber that surrounded her irises with startling clarity.

The space between them fogged as their warm breath mingled in the frigid air. He slid his thumb down to swipe over the bare skin of her wrist, exposed between her sleeve and mitten.

She took one step closer and looked up at him from under feathered eyelashes. Snowflakes floated down to dot her hair but melted the instant they landed on her cheeks.

His feet were frozen, the cold seeping up through his body, but Betty was so warm — sunshine and ice. For a brief moment, he thought about the miniscule fraction of her it would take to thaw him out. His gaze flickered to her lips, he would only have to tilt his head to kiss her upturned mouth.

“Jughead… I—“

Panic flared up his spine and he cleared his throat, stepping backward. He shoved his hands into his pockets, balling them into fists, lest he find them fitted around her waist yet again. “We better get back inside or we’ll be snow-people in no time.”

Betty looked to the ground. He thought he saw the corners of her mouth turn down, but in an instant she raised her head with a smile.

“And I owe you cocoa.”

“With marshmallows,” he reminded her.

“Homemade.” She nodded, starting back across the snow.

After a few steps she stopped, looking up as the sparkling lights lining the house turned on. “It really is beautiful, isn’t it?”

Jughead only had eyes for Betty as he breathed out, “Beautiful.”

“There’s nothing like Christmas.” She continued on, hurrying back up the steps when the wind picked up and began to blow the snow around them.

They rushed inside, shutting the door on the growing winter storm before shedding their coats.

“Well,” she tightened her ponytail. “We could pick out a movie before I start the cocoa.”

Nodding, he followed her into the living room, reaching up to pull off his beanie. The coat of snowflakes that covered it were rapidly melting.

“Christmas? Action? Sci-fi? Fantasy?” Betty inquired, scanning the shelf of films.

“I hear it’s all about the experience — gotta go festive.”

“Now you’re getting it,” she laughed, turning toward him.

But she froze, her eyes widening as her gaze continued beyond his head.

Jughead followed her stare, looking up at the ceiling. “Oh.”

“You’re under the mistletoe.”

“It appears that way.” He looked back down and their eyes met.

Rubbing her hands on her jeans, she scanned his face. “It’s just a silly tradition, right?”

It felt like their moments had all culminated into this, a parasitic, leafy green opportunity. “We can’t mock the traditions, Betts.”

A blush began to spread across her cheekbones at his callback. “We can’t?”

“Definitely not. The tree will see.” He tilted his head toward the aforementioned witness.

As Betty laughed and leaned forward, he could smell the sweet mint of her breath. Pausing, she turned at the last moment and dropped a kiss to his cheek. The press of her lips was both warm and cold, fleeting.

Closing her eyes, she pulled back, voice wavering as she spoke, “Tradition saved. I know you don’t, or you wouldn’t want, I mean— I just— Nevermind. Merry—”

“Kiss me,” he murmured huskily, throat going dry at the turn of thoughts in his head.

“Juggie?”

He pushed his hair off his forehead, suddenly feeling bare, and he wished he hadn’t removed his hat. “I...” he trailed off, breathing shallowly.

Swallowing, he reached out and she angled into his palm as he brushed his thumb across her cheekbone.

The silence pounded in his ears, echoing the fast tempo of his heart. There was a rush of nerves that fluttered in his gut, words on the tip of his tongue — stuck. He looked into her eyes, wide and searching his own for answers he did not have. It felt like now or never, if he could just—

Jughead leaned forward all at once, lightly touching his lips to Betty’s.

His eyes fell closed and he raised his other hand, cupping her jaw. Relishing in the soft sigh that escaped her chest, he swiped his thumbs along the fullness of her cheeks. She pressed her lips back against his own, the soft unyielding pressure making him chase her movements for more. Her hands grabbed fistfuls of his sweater, pulling him in and forcing him to take another step closer.

Her lips were warm and pliant and everything he imagined from the very first moment he’d seen her, before he’d resolved that he would never get the chance to find out.

The gentle movement of their kiss, tentative but yearning, conjured up all the desires and emotions that he normally kept tightly locked away. His chest burned, his skin tingled. Nothing had ever felt more terrifying, or more right, and he couldn’t get enough. He captured her full bottom lip between his, nibbling before he swiped the tip of his tongue across it.

He could have stayed frozen in that moment, relishing the sweet taste of her, if not for the burning in his lungs.

When they broke apart, breathing hard, he rested his forehead against hers. “So, about this previously _fake_ dating scenario…”

“All going according to plan,” Betty nudged her nose against his.

He pulled back slightly, raising an eyebrow.

“To hope.” She dropped a string of short kisses to his mouth.

Jughead stroked his fingertips up the back of her neck, toying with the hair at the nape of her neck as he searched her eyes. “You hoped for this?”

She wrapped her arms around his middle, kissing him once more before she smiled against his lips. “Merry Kissmas, Juggie.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I was fortunate enough to be [cooper--jones](https://cooper--jones.tumblr.com)' Secret Santa. She is a wonderful person, writer, and gif maker - we are lucky to have her here in fandom. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to give her all the things she said she loved - fake dating, friends to lovers, mistletoe, setting up the Christmas tree, and snow. Rahel, I hope this fic brings you as much joy as your creations (and lovely personality) bring me. 
> 
> To my readers, thank you for your support and kindness. I love celebrating our joy for this ship together. I feel so lucky for the friendships and memories I've made. Happy Holidays!
> 
> I always cherish your comments, they help me get out of my self-conscious head (even though I've got behind in replies due to my weird anxieties, I'll be better in the coming year). Let me know what you think?
> 
> Come find me on Tumblr! | [theheavycrown](https://theheavycrown.tumblr.com) | The post and graphic for this fic can be found [here](https://theheavycrown.tumblr.com/post/181591254756/not-all-plans-are-meant-to-be-followed-jughead).


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